More Than Words
by DistortionSoul
Summary: What can you do when the one you love, the one man you want to spend the rest of your life with, doesn't know you're into guys...?" Pete Wentz/William Beckett. Slash, yaoi, angsty fluff... :


**A/N: The writing style in this fic is a bit different from how I usually write, so if it's a bit choppy/not the best, that's why... I guess this is just how Bill wanted the story to be told...c'est la vie. lol ;) But anyways, read and review please, and I hope you like! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pete Wentz or William Beckett...if I did, they'd both be tied to my bed, and there'd be a couple very angry women after me... XP lol**

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What do you do when the one you love, the one man you want to spend the rest of your life with, doesn't know you're into guys? How can you tell him you're gay, and that suddenly you're in love with him? And what would be the use, anyway, when he _is _straight?

That's what I've been fighting with for the past too many months. I just had to fall for one of my best friends shortly after I discovered I was gay, and he just had to be Pete Wentz. I wish I could just pull him aside one day and tell him everything with a kiss, but to him, a kiss or two between friends is perfectly normal. He tosses, "I love you," at me as a greeting, and I wish with all my heart he could mean it the way I do when I return it.

Speak of the devil, here he comes. "Hey Pete!"

"Hey, Bill." A hug. A kiss on the cheek. Then off he goes, in all his punk-rock glory. Back to the set of his band's latest music video. With his vampire fangs in. Why does that make me want to tear off his clothes even more than I usually do?

Sigh. Back to waiting for the makeup artist to come for me, so I can get into costume for my cameo in the video. Back to wondering, agonizing over what I'm going to do.

I suppose I should be grateful for Pete's flamboyant nature, the offhand way he treats me like a lover sometimes. But I can't stop my heart from breaking, knowing it's all in play, when I'm wishing he could be serious. Are casual kisses better than no kisses at all? Right now, I couldn't say.

But those thoughts need to wait for now. The makeup artist is on her way, and I need to pull myself together. I've gotta go out there and shoot a video with Pete, and damn it, I'm not gonna let my feelings get in the way!

So it's on with the makeup, the costume, the vampire fangs, and on with the show. Lights, camera…good God, look at Pete. Concentration dissolves, take after take rolls by with a positive nosedive in my already bad acting, all thanks to my distraction. But of course it's not Pete's fault I'm so hopelessly in love with him.

Finally, the frustrated call of, "Take five!" from the director. I definitely need a moment to myself to try to collect my thoughts…or something…

Footsteps behind me as I head for my dressing room. "William! Wait up, man!"

The voice I'd recognize anywhere. And (the attention I pay to detail!), he used my full name. He never uses my full name. There may be hope for a serious moment after all.

I turn. "What's up?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing. You seem…I don't know…distracted lately." Concern in those gorgeous, black-lined eyes, peeking out from beneath the slanted bangs. Vampire fangs still in, making it so hard to concentrate. "Is everything OK?"

No. Nothing's OK. I love you more than I could ever say, more than I've ever loved anyone, man or woman, in my entire life. And there's absolutely no hope of you loving me back.

Yes. Everything's wonderful. Everything's fantastic. Simply being in your presence makes the world perfect.

So many words warring behind my eyes. Too many. If they escaped, I couldn't hope for coherency. All I can do is avert my gaze and hide behind the ultimate cop-out. "…I don't know."

A long, uncertain silence. Then, "Look, you don't have to talk about it, but if there's anything I can do for you, let me know, OK?"

Love me back. Change your sexual orientation. Look into my heart, and please, just love me back.

Something has to be done. I don't know what, but I can't go on like this. "Could you…would you mind…could I talk to you in my dressing room for a sec?"

"Sure, of course."

A glance up. True worry melting his eyes now. Every ounce of willpower taken up to resist grabbing him into a kiss at that moment. To turn, instead, and lead the way into my room. Door shut behind us.

Pete waits, patient but curious, with his back against the door. I pace the room, restless, displaced, feeling too open, too…useless. Broken phrases and words dissolve through the turmoil of my mind. Where on Earth to begin?

Seconds tick by. I can feel the tension thickening the air until it snaps. Quiet footsteps across the room, a gentle hand on my shoulder to still my pacing. Nothing for it now.

Deep breath. Take the plunge. "I guess I should just say it. I…I think I love you, Pete." Quick glance at his face to gauge his reaction. Nothing to be discerned.

A short laugh – a hitch in my heartbeat. "Dude, I love you too. What's up?"

I knew this would happen. "No, I mean, I…" Force eye contact now. Make him see that I'm serious. Those eyes make it so hard to continue. "…I think I really love you."

A heavy silence follows. Finally, "What do you…?" The question left hanging. How can I make him see?

My heartbeat quickens as an idea occurs to me. A risk of further confusion, yeah, but surely worth it? A short, indecisive pause, then I go for it. Our lips meet in a kiss of sudden abandon, no longer casual. My arms wrap around Pete, pulling him closer, as they've been aching to do for so long.

Our lips dance, my tongue wraps around his fangs – dull enough that I feel no pain – as everything I could never say is expressed through this kiss.

An end at last, and yet all too soon. Does he understand now? I need to say something, to make sure. "I mean, I really love you." Each word of the breathless whisper carefully filled with meaning. He has to know now.

Unfathomable emotions in those bottomless eyes. What is he thinking? "…You have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that…"

Relief and joy blow through me like a hurricane, leaving me shaky, weak. Disbelieving, but hardly happier in my life. It's over. Pete knows how I feel. And – can it be? – he feels the same way back!

I'm swept into another kiss – his doing this time – even deeper than the first. We're both expressing what we've long wanted to say, letting the tides of our emotions wash over each other until we're both struggling to breathe. I could drown happily with Pete's arms around me, his hair woven between my fingers, his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth…

Wave after wave of sensation, of emotion sweep through me, dissolving the words in my head as quickly as they form. I don't want to think anymore. I just want to feel. To feel every inch of Pete against every inch of me. To feel this, the most incredible kiss I've ever experienced.

To feel as it evolves into something more – hands reaching to unbutton, unzip, pull off every bit of clothing they can find. A sense of urgency creeping in around the edges now as we both strive to liberate the other of our carefully-arranged costumes. How much of the promised five minutes do we have left to spend? We can't dawdle if we're going to finish what we've started.

A brief pause now to catch our breath. And, I admit, to admire the sight before me. We're both shirtless by now, pants undone and hanging loosely at our hips. Pete's hair is a mess around his head, the gel in it lending a hand to its disarray. His eyes smolder with a primal excitement. Excitement, I'm sure, that's mirrored in my own gaze.

I end our moment of stillness with another fevered kiss. Our bodies come together again. I feel Pete's bare chest beneath my hands, against my chest, his stomach against my stomach. The fire of our combined body heat, the feel of his skin against mine, it's almost too much to take. Could this newfound heaven on earth possibly get any better?

Oh, but it does.

Another pause in our liplock. A ragged whisper tangles into my hair. "Bill, I…I need you, now. Just…just fuck me, right here and now."

How happy I am to oblige. My response is to practically tear Pete's jeans off of him in my eagerness to grant him his request. His hands are immediately at my waist, too, undressing me the rest of the way. He's obviously interpreted my answer as an affirmative.

In our suddenly frantic effort to do away with the last pieces of our costumes, some stumbling is unavoidable, and Pete ends up against the wall of the dressing room. Ah, how perfect things turn out sometimes.

I turn him around so he's facing the wall, my hands coming to rest against the plaster on either side of his shoulders, trapping him there. "Ready?" One last whisper, a final breath before the plunge.

A confirming nod. I thrust into him, wincing in sympathy at his cry of pain. I wish I could've prepared him properly, but we don't have time left to spare. All I can give him is another few moments' pause to adjust.

Then I begin moving against him, out and then in again, until I find the rhythm that seems right for both of us. The whole world soon moves to that rhythm. Our pounding hearts, our gasping breaths. Our voices, raised louder and louder to the ceiling as the pleasure in both of us grows.

Grows until it bursts, spreads, explodes. Into fireworks. Into molten lava. Into countless supernovas lighting the sky at once. Into my final, pleasured cries that I couldn't have made quieter if I'd tried.

When, at last, it's over, I pull out of Pete, and he turns to face me again. I collapse into his arms, both of us depending on the wall to hold us up. Both of us overheated, drenched in sweat. Our lungs pulling in air as if starved for it.

How happily I could've stayed there until death came for us both. But again, the urgency of short time is nagging at me, and I have to pull away from Pete far sooner than I would've liked.

We both move to where our clothes are heaped on the floor. Dress in comfortable silence. Our clothes are rumpled, not quite as willing to lie flat as they once were. Not much to be done about that, though.

"So, am I presentable?"

I can't help but laugh. What a question, coming from Pete as he looks now. Hair spiked in every direction, clothes wrinkled and a little sloppy, a general air of wildness around the edges. Grinning his heart-shattering grin back at me, displaying the still-present fangs. It looks absolutely beautiful on him.

A sudden urge strikes me. Rather than speaking, I lean in and press my own fangs to Pete's neck, just hard enough to draw a small sound from his throat. I then press a kiss to that same spot, whisper, "You'll do just fine, my vampire lover."

His chuckle rumbles through both our chests, pressed, as we are, together again. His lips find mine once more, lingering there just long enough to make it hard to pull away.

I do, though. And just in time for a knock to come at the door. A brief, frantic moment as we hurry to make our stances inconspicuous. Then, trying to keep the guilty grin out of my voice, "Yeah?"

The door opens, the stagehand's voice preceding the appearance of her face in the doorframe. "William, we need you back on set - …Oh." A startled silence, then the instant of realization. A brief struggle for something to say. At last, one hesitant request into her walkie-talkie. "Um, I need hair and makeup to the dressing rooms, now…"


End file.
